Dear Adelaide,

18

"Seymour?" The word floated up from my lips and dissipated into the chilly black air. There was a squeal of sorts from what I assumed was the other end of the space and a scuffling then, in the darkness. What little light there was, dipped in from the small cabinet door. I found myself standing, and ran my arms up along the walls to the sides of me, searching for a switch. I found one with my wrist and flipped the bronze cap upwards. There was a buzzing sound, followed by the flickering of a single lightbulb wedged into a hole in the ceiling, which was constructed from two loping sides of roof.

It zapped dim, resting in a tan haze across the room. The room was merely twenty steps across and fifteen steps wide. No windows. There was hardly any furniture but a small mattress, with blankets strewn all about it, and an old wooden rocking chair in the corner. There were a few books and toys that lay scattered across the floor, with dirty smudges and pages torn a-strew. And there was a shadow sitting in the back right corner.

"Seymour?" I tried again and took a step forward. There was a light crunch as I stepped on something soft and pulled up my foot to find a tossed jester doll, costumed in muted colors. I nudged it over with my foot and flinched when I discovered part of its face was missing.

The ball in the corner grunted and I took another easy step forward.

"Hi, Seymour. Won't you come out?"

There was a high pitched sound then, emulating from the dark shape that sat with its knees sinking into it's chest, like the rising call of a jungle bird.

"Seymour?" I was beginning to feel the flutter of nerves now up into my cheeks as I grew nearer to him, his face buried in the shadows. Another grunting noise followed by a loud animalistic whine.

And all at once there was music.

But this time it wasn't pulsing through my ears or driving my face through time. It was coming from inside me. The hum was in my chest and in my voice. And I knew the song perfectly. I knew the notes backwards and forwards. My toes could spell out any cadence, with every step they took, as they touched cautiously across the floorboards, nearly unaware that they waded through a world of honey. The look of that color now seemed to be only natural, as if that was the only color left from when the world was formed.

The crying and whining stopped, and the grunts and snortles all were silenced. The ball in the corner dropped quiet as I trod cautiously up to him. The hands that covered his ears had slowly been brought down to rest at the floor, and at the end of the melody, his head lifted towards the light to face me.

I couldn't help the panic that rushed through my body at the first sight of it. The four year old's nose had been twisted up and smashed into his right eye socket, where the eyelid there peeled open, as a slit, to look at me. That same side of his skull was bent inwards, as if it were a piece of moldable clay, and the skin laid as if it had at one time melted downwards towards the floor then dried there. Stuck in place like that. The twisted head was large, yet the body of the young boy was small, and thin, and his clothes were baggy off his shoulders and legs. He had hardly any hair to cover up the dent in his head, but the few wisps he did have, had grown so blonde white and were pulled thin as matted cotton.

"Ma-a." He spat from wet lips and squinted up at me in a sideways sort of way.

"Frightening isn't it?"

My heart leapt nearly entirely through the grates of my ribs at the sound of a man's voice behind me. I even let out a small shout as I whirled around to face him.

Charles stood at the other end of the room, the top of the low doorway hitting him mid-back. I opened my mouth to speak, but the words were sucked out of me, becoming just like the air that dropped to the floor between us.